The Hard Way

One of the things I love most about my kids is their bodies -- their tiny, perfectly compact little bodies. Sometimes I look at them and marvel "I made that." Well, I had some help, but you know what I'm talking about.

Punkin is getting taller by the day, fast losing the last of her baby belly. Bubba, so tan from being in the sun at camp every day, loves to walk around the house in just his underwear as he prepares for bed and I swear he looks just like Mowgli with his floppy hair and knobby knees.

I hope I can say this without sounding pervy, but I especially love their butts. They're just so cute! I have, over the years, developed a habit of smacking them on the butt. Not in a spanking kind of way, but in a "Hey there Sparky", coach-to-football player kind of way. Or if they're walking up the stairs behind me, I just can resist giving them a little goose.

Well, the kids have now decided to return the favor. I'll be cooking supper and all of a sudden - whap! And you know what? That shit is HELLA ANNOYING. So. No more put pats. No more gooses. LESSON LEARNED.

Mishmash

We had a great weekend, though it was quite busy. On Friday night we went to a pool party for the children's ministry at our church. Though I was quite confident to attend a swimming party last summer, this summer I was a little more hesitant. Of course, I've gained back most of the weight I lost last year. As I told my friends, I'd much rather wear my swimsuit in front of strangers than in front of people I actually know. But when neither of your children can swim and your daughter looks at you with pleading eyes and says "please swim with me, mommy," you really have no choice but to get in the pool.

On Saturday, Mr. Daddy and I attended a wedding in my hometown that was held in the very same church we got married in. And in fact, our anniversary was yesterday. It was kind of neat being back there, seeing another young couple heading out into the wilds of marriage. I thought of several pieces of advice that I started to write in their card, but ultimately wrote "wishing you much love" which I think pretty much covers all the bases.

I'm thinking of doing a little housecleaning on this here blog. I'm thinking of doing away with my blogroll. It's not because I don't love you guys, but it's kind of outdated -- some of the blogs are inactive -- but I don't want to just clean it up because I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. What are your thoughts? I hardly ever click on anyone else's blogroll. If anything, I'll click through from a funny comment. I don't know, just a thought.

Hope y'all had a good weekend too.

My Secret Shame

So, I feel like it's been kind of All Doom and Gloom All the Time around here lately, so I decided to shake things up a bit. I've decided to post some things that I'm slightly ashamed of.

One thing you need to know about me is that I'm kind of a music snob. I will secretly judge you if you like certain singers and bands. I live in a town that is full of awesome music. REM and the B52s got their start here. This is where great bands are born. But.

Miley Cyrus' "Hoedown Throwdown" makes me want to crank up my radio and dance in my car.

There. I said it.

Also? I don't hate Justin Bieber's "Baby."

Whew! That's a relief to get that off my chest! Woo, this feels pretty good...I think I'll keep going.

I like cheap beer. I don't mean like PBR or anything, though I have been known to drink it. But I do like Michelob and Coors. (AndreAnna, please don't scoff. I get enough ridicule from my husband, the beer snob!).

I like mariachi music. It's weird I know. I can't help it. I also like cowboy yodeling.

I like Grease 2 better than Grease 1.

Sometimes I listen to XM's Kids Place Live even when the kids aren't in the car.

I think Adrian Brody is kind of hot. Actually, I think he's really hot.

In a related note, I have a thing for guys with big noses. You know what they say...big noses, big....tissues! LOL!

They say confession is good for the soul. What's your dirty secret?

It's All in How You Say It

Thank you all for your responses. I would like to have emailed you all back, but most of you have your Blogger accounts set up so that you can't get email responses. Get on that, people!

Anyway, I felt like I was losing my mind, so it's nice to know I'm not crazy. Or if I am, at least I'm in good company! A friend brought me a fortune cookie today that said "Tomorrow is a new day; you should begin it well and serenely." And I will. On 10 mg of Lexapro.

In my post yesterday I started to say that I felt as "mean as striking snake," which is common southern expression. It's pretty self-explanatory I think. And that started me thinking of some of my other favorite expressions. Now I know "Bless his/her heart" is a favorite example people use of the Southern two-facedness (it's a word!), but I have to admit I'm not sure I've ever actually heard anybody say that. But here are some I have heard:

He's grinnin' like a mule eatin' briers.

She's madder than a wet hen.

He's happier than a pig in shit.

If the good Lord's willing and the creek don't rise (for the uninitiated, that means that you'll do something you say you will if it's at all possible).

Save your confederate money, honey (said when I wanted money for something and I wasnt' going to get it).

I know there must be hundreds of others but my brain has gone on strike and so what started coming to mind are some of my family's sayings. I had an uncle whose commanding officer in the army used to respond to requests with "not only no but hell no." I heard that one quite a bit growing up and I'll be adding it to my stable of responses once the kids are a little older.

My mother was a probation officer my whole life and so if something was a mystery we always said "it's a misdemeanor to me." If something was missing it had "absconded from supervision."

Mr. Daddy has added "pig bitin' mad" and "fruit loop frenzy" to our immediate family's lexicon. Together he and I have bastardized a line from Fargo, one of our favorite movies, so that whenever a decision needs to be made and I'm leaving it up to him I say "It's your deal, Wade."

It's like a family's secret language. Do you have one?

Updating

Hey y'all. I changed my comments a little. You can no longer comment anonymously. I really wouldn't mind except my blog is getting spammed like crazy. I'm hoping this will slow the spammers down a bit.

I'm also about to update my blogroll. Some of those links are a little out of date. Sorry 'bout that.

At work I'm preparing for the Georgia Writers Hall of Fame, which is next Tuesday and Wednesday, so my brain is just slightly fried right now. Sorry 'bout that, too.

Stuff and Nonsense

Wow. I'm feeling very rushed tonight. We're leaving for Savannah on Friday for our third annual visit to the Savannah Book Festival. I've got a lot to do. I've got a Deep Thoughts blog post brewing but I don't want to rush it.

A couple of things...I've started a new blog that will focus strictly on my Grace in Small Things posts. It's called "What Grace is Given Me..." (A big attaboy to anybody who can tell me what that quote is from). I tried doing it here last year but I didn't really stick with it. I'm hoping that a separate blog will make me more accountable. You can click on that link in the sidebar anytime you want to see what I'm feeling grateful for on any particular day.

Also, I have to share that today someone found my blog by Googling "Van Halen," "wrecking machine" and "record machine." I can't tell you how much better it makes me feel to know I'm not the only one!

Also, in a similar vein, Henri Bendel is pronounced Hen-ree Ben-dull, for all those people out there searching for the correct pronunciation who keep finding my blog.

Since that's all I've got for today, I thought I'd share some of my favorite pictures from the last few months:

Me and Punkin at The Nutcracker Ballet at the Fox Theater in Atlanta.



Bubba at the Gwinnett Braves v. Pawtucket Red Sox game (we're Sox fans, baby!)

Goofball Macgillicuddy

Christmas in their new pajamas.

Miscellanea

So, that road? The one that's paved with good intentions? Mine is going to be so smooth. 'Cause I've got a lot of good intentions.

I intended to blog every night last week. Considering that I just started back blogging, I'm going to count three posts as a win.

I intended to write something for my short story/novel/whatever last week. I only wrote one night. They say practice makes the heart grow fonder of writing...or something like that.

My problem is that if my butt ever hits the sofa, that's it, I'm done. I'm too comfy, too tired. Also, Mr. Daddy and I have so little time together that I hate to seclude myself in our bedroom where the computer is while he's in the other room. We may both be watching television if we're in the living room together, but at least we're together and can chat. If I had a laptop that might makes things easier. I could sit on the sofa and write, you know.

Toby is adjusting well to the household. He is the sweetest dog I've ever seen. He hasn't barked yet! He whimpers when we have to put him in his crate when we leave the house, but I've never met a dog that doesn't bark. He's very calm, for a terrier, and he has a bit of melancholy about him. Oh, he'll wag his tail occasionally but his eyes are kind of sad and he looks at us kind of wistfully. The man we got him from seemed very nice (though I'm beginning to wonder if they told us anything true about this dog!), but I wonder what his life was like before he came here.

He sleeps in the bedroom with us every night and he makes an excellent roommate. He clearly prefers Mr. Daddy and camps out on the floor next to the bed on Mr. Daddy's side. Last night I awoke to a strange sound. At first I thought it was Mr. Daddy talking in his sleep. It was a kind of mumbling, talking sound. I strained to understand what he was saying when all of a sudden I heard Mr. Daddy snore. It wasn't Mr. Daddy talking in his sleep, it was TOBY! I would give anything to know what he was dreaming about!

Here are some pictures of our latest addition. And believe me, Bubba is much more excited about having Toby around than he looks in this picture.

Me and My Stories

So, it's not really news because I saw it announced somewhere else a couple of months ago, but Entertainment Weekly just did a story on the fact that Days of Our Lives just let John and Marlena go, and frankly I am still shocked. Days used to MY show. Granted, John and Marlena were never my favorites, but still, they were an institution.

Days wasn't actually the first soap I ever watched. The very, very first would have to have been Guiding Light, which was guaranteed to be on every day at my Grandma's house (along with The Price is Right, of course). But I was young then and the stories really did nothing for me.

The first soap that really hooked me was General Hospital. I started watching it at my after school sitter's house. Keep in mind that this is the same sitter who wouldn't let us watch Three's Company because it was too raunchy, but didn't seem to mind if we sat and watched GH with her. I came in after the days of Noah Webster (or Rick Springfield to the uninitiated), but I watched Blackie (aka John Stamos) accidentally kill his girlfriend and go to prison for it. His bandmates discovered a new talent, Frisco (Jack Wagner) who fell in love -- over and over again -- with Felicia. I loved Frisco and Felicia. And Tony and Tanya. And Holly and Scorpio. And Scorpio and Anna (or Anner, as he called her).

Frankly, I'm not sure how I got hooked on Days since it came on while I was at school. But I remember getting hooked on the romance between good girl Hope and motorcyle riding, long-hair wearing Bo. In fact, I even skipped school the day they got married -- the first time. Because I never took advantage, occasionally my mom would let me have a "day off" from school and there was NO WAY I was missing that wedding. How could I have missed this?

My obsession with Bo and Hope was eventually overshadowed by my infatuation with Days other good girl/bad guy combo -- Kayla and Patch. And then of course Jack and Jen. I guess I quit watching sometime around middle school, but occasionally I'd check in. It usually wasn't too hard to catch up with the storyline since there were always Hortons and always Bradys. Heck, most of the characters I was watching were children of the characters my mom used to watch, so occasionally I'd catch her up on what was happening in Salem.

I couldn't even tell you the last time I turned on Days. There were a few characters I recognized, but most of them were new to me. And I couldn't really catch up. And now that John and Marlena are gone, well, that's just two more reasons for me not to tune in.

Did you have a favorite soap? Did you ever do anything crazy (like skipping school!) for one of yours? And OMG, you WOULD NOT BELIEVE the family trees, storyline recaps, and wiki entries for soaps that I found out there. It made me feel a lot better about my soap addiction!

Linky Love

If you haven't already been over to say hi, today is Holly's (of Anglophile Football Fanatic fame) birthday and all she wants is to reach a 100 comments. So, go over, say hi and wish her a happy birthday. She's at about 78 comments right now.....

I've got some deep thoughts a-brewing. Back in a day or two to write 'em all down. Off to the MIL's tomorrow.....

In the Weeds

I know a lot of people find that hearing about other people's dreams is boring to the extreme, but I always find them kind of fascinating. I used to be a very vivid dreamer and could often remember my dreams and could usually tie my dream into something that was going on in real life.

Last night I dreamed that I was waiting tables and very quickly I got "in the weeds." For those of you unfamiliar with that term, it means that as a server you are getting very far behind in waiting on your tables and you can't catch up. If, again, you are unfamiliar with this term, I wouldn't wish this condition on my worst enemy. There are few things more frustrating than trying to wait on three or four tables at once and not being able to get caught up. Usually you get in the weeds when too many tables are sat at once, or a customer's request throws off your routine. It can be a harrowing experience, particularly if you get very far behind and your customers start to get pissed off.

In my dream last night I couldn't find the water glasses and I had two tables that were sat at once. One table's food came out before I could even get drinks to their table and they had been seated AFTER the table who's order I hadn't even taken yet. I put in one man's bar order and realized about a half hour later that I had never delivered it to him. I finally woke up, relieved that it wasn't real and prayed that when I went back to sleep that I wouldn't slip right back into the dream.

This morning when I was recounting the dream to Mr. Daddy he reminded me of something he heard Mitch Hedberg say on the XM radio comedy station just yesterday (and if you've never heard of Mitch Hedberg, go check him out on You Tube -- especially the routine about escalators. He's hilarious. He is also, unfortunately, deceased.) Anyway, in this routine Mitch said "You know, I prefer sleeping to dreaming. Dreaming is too much work. One minute I'm sleeping and the next minute I'm building a go-kart with my ex-landlord."

I hear ya, Mitch. I woke up exhausted. Exhausted but thankful that I never have to wait tables again.

Snippet

Mr. Daddy: Yeah, I'm afraid Bubba inherited my short gene.

Me: Well, at least he didn't inherit your jean shorts.